


Let Sleeping Snakes Lie

by Blue_Sparkle



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Drunken Shenanigans, Fluff, Love Confessions, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Snakes, post armageddon that wasn't, this is soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-06-25 21:59:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19754593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Sparkle/pseuds/Blue_Sparkle
Summary: Aziraphale confesses his love for Crowley when he can contain it no longer. Oh, not to the demon himself of course. To a sleeping snake.





	Let Sleeping Snakes Lie

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by one of my favourite scenes in Stardust, which always makes me feel all tender~   
> Enjoy

It had, Aziraphale decided, started out as a rather nice evening at the end of a beautiful day. The weather was such that there weren’t very many people walking around on the streets with the mood to pop into quaint little bookshops, permitting him to relax with recently acquired tomes. The shop was open all day, on a technicality, but there were no customers to watch out for because nobody wished to linger. If asked Aziraphale would happily point out that he had been open though.

After examining a beautifully leather-bound bible he’d found in an old antique store (while the quality of the materials was exquisite, there must have been some mistake in the actual print. The letters were smudged and it was easy to tell that whoever had worked on it struggled with the recently invented printing press), Aziraphale had felt a little peckish. Just as that thought crossed his mind, the door swung open with a loud ringing bell, announcing the arrival of his very favourite demon.

Crowley sauntered in, lazy grin on his face and miraculously dry despite the icy rain outside.

“There’s this new Greek place a few blocks away,” Crowley announced. “Has those little stuffed leaf things you rambled on about... what was it? Nine hundred years ago?”

“Ooh!” Aziraphale exclaimed, carefully putting down his book before standing up and bouncing on the heels of his feet. “That does sound lovely, my dear. Let us go, it’s just lunch time after all.”

It wasn’t, exactly, lunch time, but Aziraphale closed his shop anyway and gave Crowley a sweet smile as the demon opened an umbrella for him and held it over the angel as they linked arms.

The late lunch turned into an entire evening of enjoying the small family run establishment. The owner herself took their order and they briefly commiserated over the weather, before ordering liquor and every item on the menu that looked good (which was most). It had been quite a while since Aziraphale had last been near the Mediterranean, and the flavours took him right back.

They drank, ate, talked, and when it was time to go Aziraphale remembered that he had quite a collection of whisky he simply needed Crowley’s opinion on. He’d always been a connoisseur of that stuff, and was all too eager to follow Aziraphale back to his shop.

It was a wonderful night, Crowley actually savouring the drinks Aziraphale offered much the same way the angel took his time with food. They talked and laughed and Crowley eventually sank down on the couch by Aziraphale’s side, cheeks flushed with the alcohol and laughter, and ended up with his head on Aziraphale’s lap as he flopped down too hard.

Though his heart was just for show Aziraphale could feel it swell with deep affection for the demon. He was drunk on whisky and even more drunk on the heavy feeling of love that seeped through the bookshop, curling in the air like incense and making his head spin. It was his own, mingled with soft waves coming from Crowley and washing over Aziraphale gently, and he was quite glad that Crowley couldn’t sense it himself. That simply wouldn’t do, as it would force Aziraphale to speak of it. He was too comfortable in their current situation to really risk a change by voicing anything. Deeply settled in the status quo, Aziraphale already could barely contain his joy for how much less tense things were after the Armagedd-off.

No. There simply was no need to push things just yet. Aziraphale was a creature of habit, not often willing to part with something he liked even with the promise of something he might like more.

But that didn’t mean that he couldn’t relish the freedom to show Crowley his affection without fear of repercussions from above and potential annihilation from below.

Aziraphale carefully set down his glass on the coffee table, moving slowly as to not disturb Crowley. His demon had turned his head, gazing at a spot somewhere deeper in the bookshop’s backroom, giving Aziraphale a beautiful view on his sharp profile. His hair was askew, strands of flaming red lying against Aziraphale’s thigh.

It looked so terribly soft, and Aziraphale knew it to be so. He hadn’t actually touched it deliberately before, on a technicality. He had sunk his fingers into it to create a carefully dishevelled look as he and Crowley had swapped their faces, but that didn’t count in his opinion. For one, it hadn’t really been his own hands sinking into it.

After a moment of hesitation Aziraphale raised his hand and reached for the tantalising red. He moved slowly, as to avoid startling Crowley with something moving towards his face. But before his fingertips could connect Crowley tensed, eyes lighting up.

“I never sssanked you for sssat,” he slurred, words coming out in a hiss. “’s nice of you, angel.”

Aziraphale frowned and followed Crowley’s gaze to notice the desk that was mostly clear of any books, instead sporting a pretty smooth rock and a lamp. He’d acquired several such objects, most in the main part of his bookshop, but perfectly arranged for a snake that might choose to take a nap regardless of the weather outside.

“Oh? Yes quite-”

“Would be perfect right ‘bout now,” Crowley exclaimed and swung his legs up in an exaggerated arch before practically leaping off the couch and staggering towards it. “Niiiisssse little nap.”

“Crowley don’t be silly,” Aziraphale started but his warning fell on deaf ears as Crowley turned on the lamp with a finger snap and before Aziraphale could stop him the man-shaped being had disappeared, instead leaving a beautiful black and red snake in his place.

The snake moved in awkward motions, already fluid motions clearly influenced by alcohol, and then Crowley was rolling up under the heat of the lamp.

Aziraphale watched him for a few seconds, slack jawed and unsure of how this had happened so quickly.

“Oh bugger,” he muttered rubbing at his forehead.

So much for a nice evening with the object of his affection.

No longer in the mood for drunkenness, and certainly not in the mood to be drunk alone, Aziraphale sobered himself up and rose to his feet to make some hot cocoa instead. He found it always helped with the unfortunate taste sobering up brought with it. With his humour slightly dampened by Crowley’s antics he decided that the situation called for copious amounts of whipped cream, marshmallows, and a sprinkle of white chocolate on top of it all.

With a sigh Aziraphale sat down at his desk, regarding the snake with fond exasperation. Crowley had coiled his body up in loose rings, part of his body resting over his face. Somehow he managed to look much more content than a snake ought to be able to.

“Why do you never learn,” Aziraphale sighed and cradled his mug in his hands. “You can’t go round being a… a serpent after drinking this much!”

The snake briefly flicked its tongue, but didn’t react further. Of course it didn’t. Aziraphale knew Crowley could speak in his snake shape, if he chose, with vocal cords being optional anyway. However, he had also learned that turning into a serpent while extremely inebriated led to Crowley being more snake than demon or human shaped being with a consciousness. For whatever reasons alcohol always ended up leaving him with the behaviour and general intelligence of a regular earthly beast. He couldn’t even turn back, unless Aziraphale forcefully sobered him up, which was terribly rude and left Crowley too grumpy to be worth the effort.

“We were having a nice evening, my dear,” Aziraphale complained, ignoring how the snake was in no position to even understand speech. “I quite enjoyed talking about- Well, whatever it was. And now you are completely useless to me as company.”

The snake coiled up tighter, basking in the warmth of the lamp.

He looked quite cute, that way, Aziraphale found. Crowley would surely protest that description, but Aziraphale found himself with a funny little pet for a few hours sometimes. And sometimes it made him wish he had one of those sleek phones Crowley was so fond of, just so he could take pictures of him. Though he was also sure that Crowley would be quite flustered if he were to see them.

“Oh Crowley, you don’t even know what I’m saying, do you,” Aziraphale said after watching the snake for a few minutes. He reached out and Crowley nuzzled against his palm, warmed from his cocoa mug.

With a fond smile Aziraphale leaned forward, hands clasped together nervously.

“You know,” he began, watching the light play on the scales of the sleeping snake. Crowley really was a beauty like this, even if he couldn’t understand him. “In all the centuries and thousands of years there’s one thing that humans have taught me. We’re meant to be made of love, you know, angels. All of God’s creatures great and small, I can’t help but love everything on earth. But the way humans love, it’s simply-”

He paused, gaze slipping over his beloved books. He loved them like angels weren’t really supposed to. He loved Crowley like he _definitely_ wasn’t supposed to.

“The way humans love, it makes the world bearable, don’t you think, my dear boy? It is such a marvellous planet, but so often I see pain and sadness and wars. I don’t think I would have fallen in love with this planet if I had not seen how they do it.”

He looked back to Crowley, a twinge of sadness cutting through his affection.

“I don’t know how much you actually remember of Heaven, but I can assure you, there is nothing quite as beautiful as the feeling of love on this planet up there. And- it was hard to grasp at first, mingled in with all the other love that clings to humans. But I do know what it is like. Despite my better judgement, and what you and I are. I do know what it is to love. Not just pretty little first editions and nice cosy restaurants. I love you, Crowley, more than anything, my dear.”

Aziraphale let out a laugh and picked up his cocoa again, watching Crowley doze on, never the wiser of the confession.

“Sometimes I feel like my heart can’t be contained by my corporate form when I think of you. I do so hope that you feel the same. But nothing has to change, I would be quite happy just being here, feeling the love. I don’t want Heaven, or books, or anything at all, if I can just be with you, my tempter. I hope one day you’ll know this.”

Crowley, as expected, did not reply.

Aziraphale smiled and sipped his drink, now content to watch over his sleeping friend for the rest of the night.

*

The next morning saw sunshine break through the clouds, leaving pleasant warmth for the time of year. Birds sang and the air was fresh and cool, perfectly suited for a stroll outside. So Aziraphale forwent opening his bookshop and instead invited Crowley out for breakfast once he took his usual shape and miracled away his hangover.

They found a lovely little café that served nice omelettes and had homemade jams to pick from. Aziraphale ordered a big breakfast as Crowley stuck to toast and coffee, actually looking like he had a hangover with his ruffled hair and sunglasses. They sat in companionable silence as Aziraphale enjoyed his food and Crowley gazed out of the window at the early morning streets. At this hour there was barely anyone in the café either, and nobody paid them any mind.

“Did you mean it?” Crowley asked after a while. He’d been quiet as he waited for Aziraphale to finish his eggs and not force him to pause for replies. He was still turned towards the window.

“What was that, my dear?” Aziraphale asked, setting down his cutlery.

Crowley turned towards him, eyes barely visible through the dark glasses. His cheeks were faintly flushed and a tiny smile played on his lips.

“What you said yesterday, in the bookstore?”

Aziraphale blinked, opened his mouth to ask for a clarification. And then it hit him.

“You!” he exclaimed, trying not to stammer or wring his hands. “You were a _snake_!”

Crowley grinned and somehow it looked sweet rather than mocking, as one would expect from a demon.

“Yes.”

“But you- you can’t understand me when you’re- like _that_!” Aziraphale cried out, feeling his cheeks heat up. He covered his mouth with his hands, staring at Crowley with wide eyes. “You never do! You get drunk and change your shape and then you act like a regular snake and can’t tell what I’m saying at all! It’s been like this for _centuries_!”

Crowley had the decency to look a little guilty at that.

“Yeah huh. I kind of act all dumb and helpless when I do that. Was really kind of embarrassing at first and then I didn’t want to clarify. To preserve my dignity. Didn’t think you’d go around saying things you thought I couldn’t understand, angel.”

Aziraphale could only stare, aware that his entire face was surely flushed red by now. Crowley hesitated for a few moments, now looking slightly nervous before he straightened his shoulders and leaned closer, hands hesitantly rising up to wrap around Aziraphale’s wrists gently.

“You meant it then? When you said that you- that.”

Aziraphale let out a soft sigh and lowered his hands.

“But of course, Crowley. How could possibly I lie about something like this? I merely… I didn’t think I knew how to bring it up with you. Of course I love you.”

Crowley’s face lit up, rivalling the sunshine that fell over their table. His hands brushed over Aziraphale’s, twining their fingers together. The sudden joy and the flood of love coming from him nearly made Aziraphale’s heart stop at the sheer volume of it.

“I do too!” the demon said, squeezing Aziraphale’s hands gently. “Love you, I mean. I love you, angel! I didn’t want to say it to scare you off or anything, but I do!”

“Well then,” Aziraphale said, squeezing his hands back and his heart fluttering in his chest. “In that case I can absolutely forgive your little silliness with being a drunken snake.”

Crowley shifted closer, their knees knocking together under the table. He paused, uncertainty written over his features and pressing his lips together in quiet worry. He gazed at Aziraphale with mild trepidation and Aziraphale let out a huff of laughter.

Closing the gap between them he leaned forward and kissed his demon softly, a gentle but firm brush of lips and he could taste coffee and a sensation of a slightly too toasted marshmallow on Crowley’s lips. Crowley’s breath hitched as he pushed closer, their kiss lingering for a few moments before their pulled apart.

Aziraphale felt his heartbeat against his rips and Crowley looked open and vulnerable and absolutely besotted. They smiled at each other as they settled back into their seats, Aziraphale picking his tea back up as Crowley reached for his coffee with a slightly shaky hand.

They returned to their breakfast, the world outside spinning just as it had before, the streets of London growing ever so slightly busier by the minute.

Nothing was different at all, apart from a demon and an angel’s hands clasped together inside a little café. Things, Aziraphale figured, really were good even with just a little bit of change after all.


End file.
